


Reciprocation

by Yods



Series: Repair [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Language, M/M, Porn, Post-Season/Series 02, Residual Anger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yods/pseuds/Yods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The next time he saw Matt was in the court house, of course.  It was the longest he had gone without seeing him in his entire adult life.  He was angry and hurt and lonely.  And Matt seemed to be doing fine.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Not that he’d actually wanted him to fail.  But some dark selfish part of him wanted to know that at least he was hurting, too.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>That wasn't how things turned out.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reciprocation

The next time he saw Matt was in the court house, of course. It was the longest he had gone without seeing him in his entire adult life. They’d practically still been kids when they met, and they had lived together and studied together and worked together.  
And then nothing.  
He’d done his best to stay neutral and polite the last time they’d seen each other, at the office. Firm didn’t work out, just colleagues going their separate ways. But he’d been hurt and furious. They’d been the kind of friends where you could imagine their entire lives together – taking care of each other’s kids and arguing case-law in the old-age home. Or _he’d_ thought so, apparently Matt didn't. And the rate he was going Matt was unlikely to get old anyway. 

He’d put everything into the firm, into making it work with Matt, and Matt had thrown it all away without a second thought. And yes, he’d ended up with a good job. A very good, sensible job. With prospects even. And it paid well – he didn't need to scrimp and safe anymore. He could treat himself. He could treat the people he cared about.  
And there was the problem. He was lonely. Karen was always busy with goings-on at the paper, and good for her. Marci was best in small doses, and his colleagues were… colleagues. There was no-one to make fun of him for buying new suits and cutting his hair. No-one to make jokes with. No-one to just companionably _be_ with.

None of this was what he’d ever intended to be doing.  
And then there was Matt. Somehow, above all expectation, he had managed to keep the lights on at the firm. Actually showing up for work, when he hadn’t really bothered while he was still there.  
There were rumours about Daredevil teaming up with the Avengers, so he’d certainly moved up to a whole new class of friends. Everything was coming up Matt Murdock.

Not that he’d actually wanted him to fail. But some dark selfish part of him wanted to know that at least he was hurting, too.

And then here he was, walking out of the courtroom. Trim black suit, looking as suave as ever. Giving what surely was opposing council the kind of dangerous smile that could only mean it had gone well in court. Matt paused for a moment, clearly realising he was there.

Foggy turned around, trying to tune back into whatever motorsports-related monologue Perez was currently holding. The guy was great co-council, but the less time spent with him the better. Someone jostled him from behind and he managed to spill half a cup of tepid coffee over himself.

“Crap!”

Perez looked up, evidently surprised anyone was still standing around and listening to him.

Foggy shook the coffee from his hand and wiped pointlessly at his jacket with a handkerchief given to him by whoever the idiot behind him was. He still felt absurdly guilty about buying a suit this expensive and now it was probably ruined. Foggy turned around – at least Matt wasn’t there to observe his humiliation. He headed to the men’s room to see whether he could still save the jacket.

So of course who would he see when he open the door, but Matt, standing in the middle of the room, and looking trapped.

Foggy took a deep breath – keeping his heartrate under control was a lost cause – and brushed past Matt to get to the sink. Ignoring him was the only way he was going to salvage any dignity in this situation.

He scrubbed at his jacket with a damp handkerchief. He definitely wasn't watching Matt in the mirror, still standing uncertainly behind him.

“Seems like that was an expensive suit.”

Foggy gritted his teeth and rubbed at his jacket with increased vigour.

“It’s a pity, really.”

Foggy threw down the handkerchief. “You want to make small-talk. Really, Matt?”

“I thought we could at least try to be civil.”

“Civil! You want us to be civil. The train for _civil_ left a couple of month ago.”

“Just because you left…”

“ _I left?!_ You!...” Foggy spluttered. After everything that happened, Matt put the way things ended up on _him_! That self-centered bastard.  
In a moment of blank rage he grabbed Matt by the lapels and shoved him. He could hear his teeth click as he hit the wall. The realisation that the only reason he managed to lay a finger on him was because Matt _allowed_ it didn’t help his temper any. And from this close it was clear that Matt was as angry as he was. Tight-lipped, nostrils flaring angry. He wondered when the last time was that he’d been this close to Matt. Whether he ever would be again.

He didn’t even know what made him do it. He surged forward and kissed him, hard. Matt jerked back in surprise, hitting his head against the wall again. For a moment his gut twisted in panic. What was he doing? And then Matt kissed back. It was vicious and frantic, all teeth and gasping and a too tight grip on his collar. And Foggy desperately didn’t want it to stop. He felt the heat spread through his body from every point they were touching. Thighs and stomach and chest. Somehow he’d always known how Matt would taste. What it would feel like to press against him. He groaned as he moved and felt Matt, hard and grinding against him.

That made him snap out of it. He pulled away and Matt reflexively chased after the kiss, breathless.

“What the hell, Matt!?”  
That was possibly unfair. He’d started it. He kissed Matt, he’d rubbed against him, and there was no way that Matt could have missed that he was also hard and still pressed against him now.

Matt didn’t reply. He was panting and looked as lost as he’d ever seen him.

For a moment they stood there. Both panting and pressed together so close they were breathing the same air. Matt could probably smell what he’d eaten three meals ago and taste the last person he’d kissed on his breath. He watched him lick his lips as if confirming this. It was a beautiful sight.  
Foggy barely had time to wonder what he had gotten himself into when Matt shoved him violently and he stumbles backwards into the nearest stall, clipping his elbow on the way.  
He ended up sitting on, sprawled onto, the toilet seat. He’d never been quite that glad to find the lid closed before. 

Matt stepped smoothly into the stall and closed the door behind him, his head dipped low. 

For a moment astonishment battled with the awareness that having started a physical confrontation with Matt could not possibly end well for him. And then the men’s room door opened and he realised that they’d almost gotten caught grinding on each other like teenagers.

Somehow he’d gotten himself into a situation where he’s locked in a stall, rubbing his tender elbow and listening to some bastard peeing outside. He’s still hard. Matt is _clearly_ still hard, and there’s not enough space for the two of them in there.

Foggy leaned back and stared at the ceiling to avoid staring Matt straight in the crotch as he stood panting in front of him. His slacks left very little to the imagination at the moment. Foggy glanced down and fought the obscene urge to lick his lips. And then kept on looking. Matt couldn’t actually tell where he was looking, right? Although he definitely could tell that his heart was racing and he was sweating and squirming in his seat. In fact, he could probably _smell_ arousal.  
Damnit.

None of this helped with the urge to grab Matt by the belt and pull him towards him. He licked his lips and swallowed heavily. Matt let out a shaky breath and tipped his head toward the ceiling, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to be trying to get his breathing back under control.  
They were close enough that he could feel the heat coming from his body. 

Outside the steady trickle stopped and someone walked out the door. No sound of a tap running. Foggy blinked.  
“Who was that?”

“Samuels”

“Remind me never to shake _his_ hand again.”

“I know.” Matt laughs, a breathless huff. He’s still panting, open-mouthed.

And instantly Foggy felt that flash of that same anger coming through again. A wisecrack and a laugh and suddenly everything was just supposed to be OK again. What was he supposed to do? Just going to ignore the last couple of months and make a joke? The desire to grab Matt and just shake him rises again. Or grab him and do something else.

Matt must sense the change in his mood. The smile drops from his face and he looks bereft for a moment. He sways on the spot, undecided, and then dropped to his knees. What the hell?

Foggy stared mesmerised as he licks his lips and leant in. He can feel the heat of Matt’s hands on his thighs through the fabric of his trousers. It runs up his legs to the pit of his stomach, to his groin. He burns, he’s frozen in place. Elegant fingers reach for his belt buckle, but Matt stops, angling his face toward Foggy for the first time. _He’s asking permission._

This would be the ideal moment to hurt him back. He could just stand up and go, make a cutting remark and leave him hard and panting on his knees. Matt never dealt very well with humiliation.

Instead Foggy reached out to Matt’s face, still tilted up at him. He leans toward his hand, lips red as he pants, but recoils when Foggy just takes off his glasses. His eyes are wide and for a moment he looks almost afraid. He swallows and licks his lips, and Foggy _wants_. 

He pockets Matt’s glasses and lets his knees fall open just enough that Matt can come in further. Let’s see what he makes of that.

Matt swallows again and his other hand comes up to undo Foggy’s belt with deft movements. He shuffles forward on his knees and opens up his trousers to rub his face against his crotch. Foggy lets off a streak of curses and he feels Matt’s warm breath on him as he laughs, damn him. He knows Matt’s _smelling_ him and it’s not nearly as off-putting as he’d imagined it would be. Not nearly…

He drops a hand on the back of Matt’s head and he stills. He can see his chest expand in his suit jacket with every breath.  
Maybe touching him was a mistake. He’s distracted Matt from whatever was going on in his messed-up head and he’s going to come to his senses and leave, and _Foggy’s_ going to be the one sitting there hard and wanting and humiliated. But Matt nuzzles him again and strokes him though his shorts, and Foggy has to bite down to avoid making a pathetic noise. 

When he finally frees him from his shorts the contrast of the cool air and Matt’s warm breath is perfection and Foggy melts. Only to twitch desperately when he licks the tip of his tongue across his slit. Electricity sparkles up his spine. He laps at him again and Foggy reflexively closes his hand in his hair. Matt makes a sound that might be a sob and closes his mouth around his head of his cock, one hand at the base. His whole body tightens at the sensation.

Foggy drops his head back to stare at the ceiling with a groan in his breath. The grainy panels and florescent lights won’t let him forget where he was. The men’s room. In the court house. Where someone he knew could walk in at any moment. That was a pressing argument to put a stop to this. But the counterargument was Matt’s hands and lips and tongue. His _mouth_. And Foggy could no more stop this and walk out than he could sprout wings and fly away. He groaned again and closed his mouth against the sound.

Matt’s free hand clutches at his hip as he works. He swirls his tongue before sinking deeper, making small, guttural sounds. Foggy’s entire body is melting from the heat from his crotch, from Matt. He reaches out to take the hand gripping his hip, to hold it, but comes to his senses at the last moment. That was not what this was. He drops the arm reaching out to Matt on his thigh, the back of Matt’s fingers just touching the inside of his arm.

The sight of Matt’s dark head bobbing in his lap is obscene and he can’t look away. If anyone came into the men’s room now there would be no mistaking what they were hearing. Moans and slick, wet sounds and the occasional choked-off grunt. He rakes his nails through Matt hair and he fucking _growls_ at him. He can feel the vibration from the back of his throat and it makes lights go off behind his eyes. 

As Foggy gets closer Matt’s breathing gets erratic. Foggy tightens his fist in Matt’s hair and he whines and pushes back against his hand for a moment before bearing down on Foggy and taking him deeper in his throat. Foggy bucks at the sensation. Matt firms his grip on both hips and holds him down, speeding up.  
Foggy has to restrain himself from pushing his head all the way down. He wasn’t a complete asshole, after all.  
He keens and clenches his teeth to stop himself from saying Matt’s name. He can’t help the strangled yell as he comes, dropping his hand to the back of Matt’s neck and curling into him. Matt rides it out, swallowing convulsively around him, and then the only sound is the two of them panting. Matt pulls off and lays his head against Foggy’s thigh. His hands flex on Foggy’s hips for a moment before he lets go and wipes his face, still turned away from him. He tucks Foggy back into his shorts and wipes across his face again before reaching up to take his glasses out of Foggy’s jacket pocket. He stands up and Foggy can only see his face for a moment.  
There something wild, almost like shock, in his expression. Before he can react Matt has already turned around, unlocked the door and left.

  


mMm

  


Marci doesn’t open the door immediately, and when she finally does she takes one look at his face, rolls her eyes and walks away. Foggy follows her into her apartment.  
She’s pouring herself a drink. “Something happened with Matt, didn't’ it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’ve got that look.”

“I do not have a ‘something happened with Matt’ look.”

When she turns back to face him he is confronted with sarcastic raised eyebrows. “So…”

He sighs and takes the drink she hands him. “Something happened with Matt.”

He can’t miss the look of exasperated disgust that crosses her face. “I don’t want to hear about it. Your drama is so _very_ boring.”

Foggy stares intently into his glass and mumbles. “… He gave me a blowjob in the courthouse men’s room.”

“I changed my mind. Tell me everything.”

“Nope, that pretty much it.” She stared at him unblinkingly. Foggy sighed again. “We argued and I shoved him, and then I kissed him. For some reason. And then he blew me and walked out.”

Marci looked like she was going to laugh at him. Maybe he should move to somewhere he would never have to either of them again. He’d heard that San Francisco was nice.

“This isn't funny, Marci. What am I going to do?” Why was he sounding like a teenager who managed to make eye-contact with their crush? He hadn’t even spoken with Matt for months. Whatever they once were was over.

She sniffed. “The polite thing would be to reciprocate.”

“What.” He felt himself turning red.

She spoke slowly and enunciates each word. “Go to his apartment and blow him.” 

He bites his lips to stop from licking them and then managed to get out a reply. “What? No. Matt would have a heart attack if I did that. And also, no.”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this. It’s not like this is new territory for you guys.”

This sends him into defensive stammering. “What? I, no… We’ve… we’ve never.”

“Are you telling me the two of you weren’t screwing in college?”

“No!”

Marci sighed into her drink. “What a waste. At least there is an upside to all of this.”

Foggy was suddenly hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Now you two can hate-fuck each other like God intended.”

He groaned and walked away as Marci sniggered at him. This wasn’t helping at all.


End file.
